


Intervention

by eastwood



Series: Bartender with Benefits [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, catching feelings, split POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 22:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13491207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eastwood/pseuds/eastwood
Summary: The first step to recovery begins with a friend making things awkward.





	Intervention

“I’m getting the mail,” Gabe tells him, already on his way to the door.

“Alright, sugar,” Jesse calls back. He’s not about to move from where he’s perfectly situated on the couch, tucked into one corner with one of the throw pillows under his back and both feet shoved under the middle cushion. His toes probably wouldn’t be that cold if he put some actual clothes on, but he’ll be damned if he spends a weekend wearing pants if he’s not getting paid for it.

There’s a soccer game droning on the TV, one that Gabe isn’t watching because he keeps getting up to put away laundry or pay a bill or _check the mail_ , but will still get pissed about if Jesse changes the channel. So Jesse is fiddling on his phone to avoid being bored to death when he hears a knock on the door.

He grins to himself and tosses his phone on the coffee table before he goes down the hall and opens it. “Forget your keys, sweetheart?” he starts off saying with a smirk, and then freezes. It is _not_ Gabe at the door.

It’s a woman, older than him and a good deal shorter, wearing faded denim and a delicately embroidered blouse, carrying something in the plastic shopping bag hanging from her fingers. She glances him up and down with faint curiosity, and Jesse’s face goes hot. He very much wishes he’d decided for once to laze around in something more than a pair of boxers.

The woman’s eyebrow arches a notch. “I take it Gabriel is not in?” she asks with a warm weathered voice, tinged by an accent he can’t place.

“Uh,” Jesse says, eloquently. “No ma’am. I mean, he’ll be right back, that is…” he falters, but then Gabe appears unsuspectingly around the corner at the end of the hall, with perfect timing and a stack of mail in hand. “Honey we were just talkin’ about you!” he finishes, still able to enjoy the surprised yet suspicious look on Gabe’s face as he approaches.

“Ana,” is all Gabe says, coming to a slow stop, blocked from the door by where the woman is standing.

“Well I’ll leave you to it,” Jesse says hastily, before the woman has a chance to reply, and avoids the looks he gets as he almost jogs back into the apartment to hide in Gabe’s bedroom. It’s only there after he shuts the door that he realizes his phone is still on the coffee table and he’ll be left with nothing to do for God knows how long if Gabe decides to let that lady stick around.

But at least he can put some pants on.

 

They both watch Jesse flee down the hall until the bedroom door closes a little too hard, and Gabe isn’t sure whether he wants to laugh or step into a hole. Then Ana turns back to look at him with the corner of her mouth ticked up, putting him firmly in the latter camp.

He glowers at her. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she says lightly, all innocence, as if she hadn’t even noticed the mark high on Jesse’s bare shoulder. Or the thumb shaped ones on his hip.

“I know,” Gabe mutters, and slides past her to get into his apartment.

She follows him of course, to the kitchen where Gabe tosses his mail on the table. Ana puts her bag next to it and takes a seat without waiting for an invitation, her back straight and hands folded together.

“Can I get you something?” Gabe asks eventually, her silent, expectant gaze winning in the end. He knows for a fact her patience outweighs his obstinance by a long shot; no point in dragging it out.

“I don’t suppose you have tea,” Ana says.

”Maybe,” Gabe answers. “But it’ll be six months old.”

Ana’s nose scrunches the smallest amount. “Water is fine, thank you.”

So Gabe pours a glass and sets it down for her, then joins her at the table. “Alright,” he says after waiting for her to take a sip. “What do you want.”

“You’ve been turning down all my invitations for weeks,” Ana says, giving him an unimpressed look. “I thought I’d stop by to say hello. And I brought you ghorayebah.” She nudges the plastic bag a little closer.

“So this is a wellness check,” Gabe says flatly, ignoring the peace offer cookies for now. It’s true that he’s brushed her off too many times to get away from her for much longer, out of apprehension that Ana would be able to guess at _something_ the moment she saw him. But this is worse. He should have just gone to a damn lunch. “Thanks. I’m fine.”

“Yes, I can see.” Then she gets that look in her eye again. “Usually when you say you’re _busy_ it is only an excuse.”

“Shut it,” Gabe says.

Ana’s mouth curls. “What’s his name?”

 _None of your business_ , Gabe wants to say, but that would damn him more than anything else. “I’m not introducing you,” he says instead.

“I’m not asking you to,” Ana says. “I only wonder, when will you be able to come out for lunch? He’s quite handsome, so I can understand if it might be difficult to make time for your friends.”

Gabe scowls. “You could have just called and given me the guilt trip over the phone.”

“Oh? Then how would I find out you are seeing someone?”

“You want to hear about every guy I fuck? That’s new,” Gabe says.

And Ana just looks at him with one sleek brow arched, making it perfectly clear that not only does she not appreciate him using vulgarity as a defense mechanism, she knows that he knows better than to pretend with the proof right there. Namely, the man who is still here in the late afternoon, who feels comfortable enough answering Gabe’s door, and who calls him _honey_ in front of people without getting hit in the mouth. Goddamn Jesse for that, most of all. Everything else Gabe could have explained.

“I’m not _seeing_ _him_ ,” he says then, because at least that’s true. Maybe Jesse spends more time here than in his own apartment, but they’re not going on dates and holding hands. There has been no discussion at all in that regard.

“Why not?” Ana asks, so simply, stabbing right into the heart of his inner conflict without even trying. This is exactly why he was avoiding her; she’s a goddamn witch. Why not. He has a hundred reasons why not, and he’s not going to explain a single one of them.

“Alright, enough,” he says, because he’s seen that expression many times already and knows what comes after it: _don’t shut us out, stop being hostile, it’s not good for anyone_. Same story, different day. “What do you want, lunch? Dinner? I’m free tomorrow, pick a place. And before you ask, I’m not bringing him.”

Ana, thankfully, relents. For now. “You don’t let me have any fun, Gabriel. Lunch then, there’s a new place I want to try. I’ll send you the details.”

“Great,” Gabe says, and stands, waving her up. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m a little _busy_.”

Ana stands along with him without protest. “I’m sure you are,” she retorts, as Gabe ushers her from the kitchen and down the hall. “If that’s how they’re making them these days I might consider trading in for a younger model.”

Gabe snorts, then Ana stops in front of him, and he turns to see what caught her eye.

Jesse is standing in the living room like a deer caught in headlights, frozen between one step and the next. Fully dressed this time, at least. Gabe glares at him, incensed. He had been so close to getting Ana out the door.

“Hello,” Ana says, overly cheerful, and walks right over to him before Gabe can stop her. “I apologize for surprising you earlier.”

It’s like a switch is flipped; Jesse slides on one of his easy customer-service grins and relaxes. “No problem at all, ma’am. Sorry for bein’ a little underdressed.”

“Oh, I’ve seen worse. I’m one of Gabriel’s friends, Ana,” she coaxes him, holding out her hand with that expectant look. “And you are?”

“Just call me Jesse,” he says, taking her hand to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Ana rewards him with a warm, sunny smile. Her other hand comes up to take Jesse’s between both of hers, trapping him. “Oh, the pleasure is all mine. I just stopped by invite Gabriel to lunch tomorrow. Perhaps you might like to join us?”

Jesse falters then, darting an uncertain glance at Gabe, who glares venom back. He is going to kill her, and he’ll kill Jesse too if he’s stupid enough to say yes.

But then Ana says, “Are you free?” and squeezes Jesse’s hand just a little, distracting him into looking back at her and away from the unspoken message. The fucking _witch_.

“Uh, yeah? Until four.” Jesse offers, because he is far too eager to please, and Gabe wants to strangle him for it.

“Perfect,” Ana says, much too smug over tricking a naive, agreeable, very _stupid_ man. She releases Jesse’s hand and turns pointedly to Gabe. “I am looking forward to it. Gabriel, have him try the ghorayebah.”

Then she breezes blithely past him to the front door, but he is not going to let her get away that easily. With one last glare for Jesse, who only looks back helplessly confused, Gabe stalks off after Ana.

He catches up to her outside, before she makes it to the stairs. “What the fuck, Amari,” he grits out.

She rounds on him without hesitation. “Surely you can’t be afraid of being seen with him in public.”

“That’s _not the point_ ,” Gabe seethes. “Stop fucking around.”

Ana smiles coolly at him in return, always the glacier in his face. “Perhaps you might take your own advice, then.”

His lip curls back with the amount of instinctive disdain he feels for what comes next. “If you’re about to say it’s for my own good, I swear to _María_ —”

“Spare me the theatrics, Gabriel,” she interrupts, entirely unsympathetic. “It is one lunch. There’s no need to hide him like some awful secret from your friends; he seems very sweet.”

He glares at her, resenting the accusation of him hiding anything when clearly he’s justified because _this_ is what happens when people find things out. “Excuse me for not jumping to introduce the guy I’m sleeping with to everyone and their goddamn mothers. Guess that makes me worse than a fucking war criminal, huh?”

“If I thought you might do it on your own then I would not bother, but I’ve learned better by now,” Ana says simply. “If he doesn’t want to go that is one thing, but do not try to talk him out of it.”

And Gabe growls in frustration as he realizes of course Jesse will want to go. That fool already chats up everybody he makes eye contact with and loves irritating him; this would only combine the two. How the fuck did Ana figure that out when she hadn’t even known of Jesse’s existence until fifteen minutes ago.

“Remind me why we’re friends,” he mutters at last. “You don’t play fair.” Every time they argue he comes out feeling like she scored bullseyes on all his weak points, no matter if he wins or loses.

“Oh, Gabriel,” Ana says, and gently pats his arm. “You would be dead without me.”

He sighs, then. “Don’t invite Jack.”

“Ha,” Ana scoffs. “That would be a little much for all of you. No, I won’t.”

Thank god she’s capable of mercy, even if he’s fairly certain it’s not for him.

 

Jesse paces in the living room, waiting for Gabe to come back, because he really needs some things explained. Such as, first of all, _what the fuck_. Why was that lady so damn scary? She must weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet and the minute she’d taken him by the hand he was convinced she could snap his arm off without blinking.

Second of all, why the fuck did she invite him to lunch? What the hell was that about? Obviously he fucked up by saying yes, Gabe had been able to convey that much with the murder in his eyes, but it was just a _little_ difficult to make snap decisions with that much tension in the room.

And why the hell was Gabe so pissed in the first place? Did this lady crash his car? Kill his dog?

Jesse pauses. Oh Lord. What if she’s the ex-wife. He had pegged Gabe as about a ten on the Kinsey scale, but that was all guesswork. They’d never really talked about it, and they’d never talked about exes either. Jesus, he’s fucked. She’ll eat him alive.

The door opens then and he hears Gabe come in, walk down the hallway, and slow to a stop at the living room. Jesse just manages to look over, finding Gabe’s face set with a grim frown.

“Was that your wife?” he blurts.

“What, Amari? No,” Gabe says, expression instantly transforming to plain disbelief.

“Oh thank God,” Jesse sighs. He plops down on the couch and scrubs both hands over his face. “Fuck, sorry honey. I didn’t know what the hell was going on.”

“Well I don’t have any wives running around, so you can scratch that off the list,” Gabe says dryly. He comes around to the other end of the couch and sits down too. “Great timing coming out while she was leaving, by the way.”

Jesse groans. Yeah, he’d felt real brilliant, like getting caught with his pants down a second time. “I thought I could just grab my phone.”

“Dumbass,” Gabe murmurs.

Jesse rolls his head to the side to look at him with what he hopes is an adequate amount of contrition. “I’m really sorry, baby. You can just tell her I can’t make it to lunch.”

Gabe considers him for a moment, then reaches over and flicks away a lock of his hair. “Do you want to go?”

“I dunno,” Jesse says, because he’d agreed under duress but now he’s truly wondering. “You’re going?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Gabe says. “But I can guarantee even if you go she’ll be more interested in torturing me.”

Jesse winces. Gabe is not making this lady sound any friendlier. Though, in a way, if he had to think about what kinds of people Gabe might be friends with, it makes sense. Jesse has never asked if Gabe even _had_ friends; he’d kind of built it up in his mind that Gabe didn’t need them, since the man put off such an untouchable air most of the time.

But he’s witnessed Gabe sending texts to people that aren’t him, and are most likely not work related since he’d smirk the same way as when he was being an asshole for fun, and work only seems to make him plain ticked off. So, he has friends, apparently, or at least one friend, and she seems capable of the same gut-twisting intensity as Gabe.

“You been friends a long time?” he asks, trying to feel this out a bit more.

Gabe sighs. “Forever. Decades.”

“Damn,” Jesse says. Then a grin creeps up on him. “She must have stories.”

“Fuck off,” Gabe sneers.

“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t be shy. I wanna hear all about your glory days,” Jesse croons, as he scoots across the couch to tuck himself up close to Gabe’s side and slide an arm around his shoulders so he can try smooching that look off his face.

Gabe lets himself get kissed a few times, and Jesse is glad to know he apparently didn’t fuck up too bad. Gabe never really got angry at him anyhow, but that’s easy enough to do when there’s nothing else around to complicate things; meeting friends could complicate things a hell of a lot.

Jesse understands that well enough, though he’s not opposed to complicated, not when it comes to this. Lord knows he’s been a goner from day one, he’ll go along with anything Gabe is willing to give him even if he doesn’t know quite what that is and doesn’t want to push his luck by asking. Fuck buddy, boy toy, something more… who knows, he’ll take it.

So he pulls back to murmur, “I’ll do whatever you want, baby. Fine by me either way.”

“Yeah,” Gabe says, then sighs again and ends in a groan. “If I don’t bring you she’d just show up next week anyway.”

“One of those kinds, huh?” Jesse asks, smirking. “Never would’ve guessed you’d let yourself get bossed around by a little lady like that.”

“Call her a ‘little lady’ to her face and see what happens, I dare you,” Gabe says.

Jesse affects offense. “Honey, you might not think much of my sense of self-preservation, considerin’ I keep coming back here, but even I know better than that.”

“Never would’ve guessed.”

“ _Almost_ sounds like you’re tryin’ to get rid of me, with a dare like that,” Jesse says, and plucks at Gabe’s shirt in admonishment.

“And why would anyone want to get rid of you?” Gabe asks, looking at him with an edge of something cool and curious in his eyes like he’s not just teasing and really expects an answer, and Jesse finds himself tongue tied.

Luckily Gabe leans in to kiss him again then, so he just throws himself fully into that and looks for another way to say _baby don’t get rid of me_.

 

It goes about as well as Gabe could have hoped. Jesse is his usual, irritatingly charming self, and Ana is delighted to carry on a conversation with him while still avoiding incriminating questions like how he and Gabe had met, or when. In fact, they ignore that subject entirely and almost ignore Gabe himself in favor of talking about everything else under the sun. They do remember him when the bill arrives, though.

“Thank you for lunch, Gabriel,” Ana tells him sweetly, once they are outside the restaurant, about to go their separate ways. She clasps his arm as he leans down for her to deliver a peck to his cheek.

“You’re welcome,” he says, tamping down the sarcasm as much as she can reasonably expect him to.

She releases him with a teasing smile and turns to Jesse. “Next time we don’t have to bring that one if he will only sit there and sulk like a gargoyle.”

“Aw, now that’s no fair,” Jesse says, grinning crooked. “He enjoys my sufferin’ too much to let him off the hook so easy.”

Ana laughs and then insists he bend down so she can take him by the face and lay a kiss on his cheek as well. “You are too sweet for him,” she says, half scolding, and then makes her goodbyes and is gone, like she hadn’t just upturned the last twenty-four hours of Gabe’s life for her own amusement.

“Phew,” Jesse sighs as they turn to start in the opposite direction. “That was easier than I’d thought it’d be.”

“Could’ve been worse,” Gabe agrees. It hadn’t been humiliating at least, though he suspects Ana had only been on her best behavior so she could convince him to do it again in the future. And it had been a little funny beforehand watching Jesse fret last minute about whether or not to go back to his own place and pick out something nicer to wear, as if he didn’t look fine just rolling out of bed.

Jesse sidles up next to him and bumps an elbow to his. “You know sugar, I didn’t get to hear any stories about you at all. I think she was holding out on me.”

“What makes you think there’s stories?” Gabe asks.

“Please, darlin’. Beautiful guy like you?” Jesse says, sounding truly skeptical. “Bet you’ve got a whole misspent youth piled up with pickin’ fights and breakin’ hearts.”

Gabe snorts. “Sure. Go ahead and ask about that next time, she’ll tell you all about my _misspent youth_.” Ana would probably laugh herself sick, first, and then be happy to explain how utterly boring his life had been during the early years of their friendship.

“I do believe I will,” Jesse declares airily. Then, “You don’t mind if there’s a next time?”

“You say that like Ana won’t just scoop you up whenever she likes, now. It’s out of my hands.”

“Well, I don’t want to start movin’ in on your friends if you don’t like it,” Jesse says, and fumbles. “If it’s, uh. You know. Too much?”

Gabe wonders: is it too much? He’s already been proven to have very little control over any part of this, and without getting into all _that_ it’s far simpler to say, “It’s fine. If having you around gets her off my back, so much the better.”

“I live to serve, sweetheart,” Jesse says. “They don’t call me the best bartender this side of the Mississippi for nothin’.”

“No one’s ever said that,” Gabe tells him, and the rest of the way home is spent going back and forth over whether or not the best bartender would be working in a dive bar to begin with.

 

The whole day has played on every one of Jesse’s nerves, and as soon as they’re safe and sound back at the apartment he turns right around and sinks into Gabe’s arms.

“What,” Gabe says, catching him easily and letting him lean in with his full weight.

“Mm, nothin’,” Jesse says. He presses his face to Gabe’s neck and sighs, basking in the faded smell of his aftershave. Lunch had been fine; Ana had been nice to talk to, Gabe had been quiet but seemed not to hate it. And Jesse had spent the whole time stopping himself from reaching out to touch, or sitting a little closer, or just flirting out of habit, not knowing what might be _too much_ and wishing like hell he’d been able to ask beforehand.

God, to think before they went he’d been more worried about making a good impression on Gabe’s friend. That’d been a dream in comparison.

Still, seems he did alright since Gabe is patiently waiting for him to move instead of dropping his ass on the hallway floor. “Thanks for lunch,” Jesse mumbles; he’d forgotten to say it earlier.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gabe replies. Then, dryly, “You better not be waiting for me to carry you the rest of the way in.”

“I’m up for it if you are, sugar,” Jesse says against his neck, and pulls back before Gabe can shake him off to kiss him once, twice, murmuring, “I want to go to bed with you.”

Gabe doesn’t answer, just dips in to kiss him and lets Jesse loop both arms around his neck.

Jesse winds up pressed against the wall a few seconds later, with Gabe’s hand tugging his jeans open before sliding down the front, and he distantly recalls doing it like this before. He tips his head back as Gabe takes him in hand while mouthing leisurely at his throat.

“This is just like the first time I came over,” Jesse says with a faint laugh as he realizes.

Gabe hums absently and nips at the corner of his jaw; whether he remembers or not Jesse can’t tell, but he’s doing very nice things down there so it doesn’t really matter either way.

They spend long enough making out there in the hallway that Jesse almost forgets not to come yet and has to hastily shove Gabe away and grab his own dick when he’s right on the edge. “Wait a minute, baby,” he pants when the danger has passed. “Want you.”

Gabe kisses him again, insistent, and Jesse can only whimper and hang on until finally Gabe lets him go, only to bring him along by the arm down the hall and to the bedroom.

And then Jesse gets taken apart and very, very thoroughly fucked, begging for it the whole long way.

They’re still kissing afterwards, lazy sweeps of tongue and lips that Jesse struggles to stay awake for, just a while more. Gabe’s thumb rubs little circles at his hip, over and over until the skin there feels hot and silky smooth, leaving tiny sparks of overstimulation.

“Baby,” Jesse sighs at last, because he really can’t take any more, he doesn’t know how he even made it this long. “I think I’m feelin’ some kind of way about you.”

“Hm?” Gabe noses at his cheek, lips brushing along his jaw. “What way would that be.”

“You know,” Jesse says, and that’s all. His mouth feels soft, too tender. He looks up when Gabe raises his head.

“Yeah,” Gabe says, “I do.”

Jesse swallows before he asks, “That okay?”

“Yeah,” Gabe says again. He strokes the hair away from Jesse’s forehead with one palm and kisses him there, then once more.

And it’s all okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Well folks, that's their love story. There may be more parts because why not.
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading, leaving kudos, and comments. Y'all really brighten my day.


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